


Cherry Wine

by l_cloudy



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: -ish I guess?, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bottom Kylo Ren, Dominant Kylo Ren, Dominant Masochism, First Time, Hate Sex, Kylo Ren Has Issues, M/M, Masochism, Power Dynamics, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, S&M, field officer hux meets kylo ren, sex ensues, spoiler alert: they don't get along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7230937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I knew I’d chosen right,” Ren said, turning his head to look up at him. His eyes were very dark. “It’s always the proper ones, isn’t it.”</p><p>This wasn't the first time Major Hux found himself on his knees for a superior officer. In time, he’d ended up outranking most of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdSCCwtNEjA). Heed the tags and warnings, and consider checking the endnotes if you need more details.

Of all the indignities Hux had been forced to suffer in his ten years of service, babysitting General Zhang’s pet knight may very well be the worst.

When Kylo Ren had come on board, shrouded in black robes and an aura of power, the General and his staff had been adequately intimidated. Even Hux himself, who took special pride in his level-headedness and rationality, had been something close to awed at the thought of being so near to someone who had the Supreme Leader’s ear – Snoke’s own apprentice.

And Zhang had seemed to agree. He’d welcomed Kylo Ren in full pomp in a showy ceremony, and granted him unlimited access to the ship, Level Ten security clearance, and his best visiting quarters.

And, in front of the entire crew, he’d given Ren something else.

“Of course,” the General had said, all thunderous voice and sweeping gestures. “If you need anything else, you are welcome to make a request to my aide. He will report to you for the length of your stay.”

Two steps behind him and three to the left, Hux’s interlocked hands had stiffened behind his back. For a brief moment, he’d been annoyed at this unexpected declaration – after all, the General could have at least warned him . Then he’d felt frustration at likely having to do twice as much work in the weeks to come, and a burst of pride for having been chosen. Surely, he’d thought, working so closely with the Supreme Leader’s apprentice could only be beneficial for his career. All he had to do was to impress this Kylo Ren.

He hadn’t counted on Ren to be an absolute pain in his ass.

Whatever admiration he’d had for the knight had lasted all of two hours; the time it had taken Ren to cause two inconveniences to the crew and one major display of mystic power that left a Second Lieutenant shaking and got two ‘troopers sent to reconditioning, with all the paperwork _that_ entailed.

In the days that followed, things only got worse. Ren was an absolute nightmare, prone to strange moods and illogical flights of fancy; not to mention his pathological inability to respect any kind of schedule. His occultism was baffling, and his continued tendency to speak in riddles had Hux crawling up the walls.

Ren’s refusal to weigh in on any plans that didn’t meet with his full approval was exasperating – honestly, had the man never heard of compromising? – but still not as maddening as his penchant for being always infuriatingly right whenever he actually deigned to offer an opinion. His knowledge of the New Republic’s political landscape was uncannily accurate, and by the second week Hux started to suspect that there must be some truth to the rumours about Ren being able to read minds and see the future.

Soon enough, Ren’s ridiculous eccentricities had all but driven him insane. It wasn’t uncommon for Hux to find himself scurrying along between Ren’s quarters and the bridge to bring messages back and forth, running through the corridors like a common cadet. Ren wouldn’t deign to answer his comm, or he wouldn’t show up to a meeting he’d confirmed he would attend, and the General would send Hux to fetch him. Or Ren would call for him in the middle of the night to ask for a mission report or to be escorted to a training room, as if he didn’t know the bloody way by now.

Being at Ren’s beck and call was humiliating in a way he’d never experienced. He was an officer, not an errand boy, and every passing day made murder look like an extremely attractive solution to his problems.

One night, around the end of the first month, he’d just retired to his metal box of a room when the comm buzzed. Again.

“Major,” it was Ren’s voice, coming out in a crackle of static. “I have need of you.”

Hux threw a look around the room – the bed still unmade from that morning, the discarded jacket and boots he’d only just taken off, that bottle of Arkanis whiskey he’d been looking forward to all day – then took a breath and passed his hands through his hair, hoping it would look halfway decent.

He made it to Ren’s room in record time to find the man himself standing in the middle of his sitting room with his arms crossed and a relaxed posture, like he had all the time in the world.

“Was there anything you needed, Lord Ren?” he asked as politely as possible, fighting the urge to scream at Ren for wasting his time in the middle of the night shift.

“Major Hux,” Ren drawled. “You don’t like me, do you?”

 _No shit_ , Hux thought. He kept his face composed. “I don’t let my personal opinions interfere with my work.” He paused long enough to make it noticeable, before adding, “Lord Ren.”

There was more crackling under the helmet – a _laugh_ , Hux realized. “You really don’t,” he repeated, as if to himself. He turned around, walking further inside the apartment.

“Follow me,” Ren called over his shoulder, marching into the bedroom.

In the bedroom there were a bed, a desk and a chair. On the chair there was a flat white box, closed shut. Ren gestured towards it.

“Have a look, Major. Tell me what you see.”

Almost intrigued despite himself, Hux stepped inside the room and raised the top of the box with both hands. He didn’t quite know what he ought to expect – something mystical, maybe; or perhaps a bloodied knife, or a severed head – but he wasn’t entirely surprised when he removed the lid and his gaze caught on the slender shape of a cane, stark white against the black cloth lining of the box. And next to it –

“Do you know what that is?”

“Yes,” Hux said, still staring inside the box. “That’s a whip.”

Behind his back, Ren made a condescending noise. “Have you ever used one, Major?”

“No,” Hux admitted, hearing his voice as if from far away. He started to turn. “Are you seriously asking me–”

He stopped cold.

Kylo Ren had sat himself on his bed, long legs crossed at the ankles, ungloved hands pressing at the underside of his helmed. He found himself staring, as if hypnotized, as the mask slid off, revealing smooth  skin and red, full lips. Under the helmet, Ren’s face was that of a young man – an _absurdly_ young man; pale and haughty. His hair was long and black, curling slightly over his shoulders. He looked, Hux thought, like a painting. Something from the Republic, no doubt; a spoiled prince out of a story.

The look Ren gave him was equally appraising.

“Yes,” Ren said. Hux frowned, slightly, before remembering what he’d started to ask Ren.

“I am asking you to use those items on me,” he went on, as if it were a perfectly normal request, no different from having his meals delivered to him in the middle of the sleep cycle, or having an entire training session rescheduled because he required the room for his lightsaber exercise.

“The cane first, to start with. Are you familiar with it?”

“No.” He fought the urge to swallow. In the last decade, he’d become familiar with more fantasies than he cared for, but he’d never been asked to hurt anyone. Of course, he thought, _of course_ a freak like Ren would be into pain.

Ren smiled. He looked feral. “Well, Major,” he asked. “What do you say?” His voice turned taunting. “Weren’t you told to assist me with _anything_ I may need?”

All in all, Hux decided, getting to hit Ren would be a lot more pleasant than all their interactions had been so far. He nodded.

“I’m up for a promotion in seven weeks,” he said, the unspoken meaning behind his words clear. Ren snorted.

“I’ll tell the General you have been most accommodating,” he said. “Come over here.”

He did, walking slowly until he was standing next to Ren’s outstretched legs. Ren’s eyes were dark and wide, almost wild.

“Undress me.”

He wasn’t going to make this easy, Hux realized, then decided it didn’t matter at all. Quickly, efficiently, he unlaced Ren’s cloak from his shoulders and slid down until it fell to the mattress – he’d be damned if he started _folding_ Ren’s clothes for him – and made quick work of Ren’s tunic. Under that, he had another shirt, dark and long-sleeved, and an undershirt tucked into his belt.

“That’s enough,” Ren called, stopping him before he could remove the last layer. Ren’s body, Hux had come to notice, was nothing short of impressive, powerful and firm and well-muscled. Under most circumstances, he would have enjoyed this a great deal; even now, he was not completely – unappreciative.

“Take off my belt,” Ren said. “And my boots.” He smiled up at him, sharp and smug.

 _How cute_. He put Ren’s belt aside on the bed and lowering himself down to the floor to work on his boots, deciding it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d ended up on his knees for a superior officer. In time, he’d ended up outranking most of them.

He distinctly heard Ren snort. “On your feet, Major, and take your clothes off.”

“What,” he found himself snapping, annoyed, even as he rose. “Do you really need me to strip so I can beat you more efficiently?”

For a moment, he saw raw anger flash on the knight’s face.

“Are you refusing to comply?” Ren asked, low and dangerous. Hux forced himself to remain impassive, but quickly slid his jacket off his shoulders all the same, draping it on the chair so that it wouldn’t wrinkle.

His shirt was off next, one button at the time, then his belt. He bent to unlace his boots and heard Ren laugh, deep and mocking.

“Well, that’s certainly a nice sight,” Ren said, and Hux felt himself flush, realizing what he’d unconsciously been doing. “You really _are_ a most accommodating officer, aren’t you Major? I can see why you’re getting promoted.”

He purposefully didn’t straighten himself up, refusing to give Ren the satisfaction as he slowly unlaced one boot and then the other. Over the years, he’d had some practice making the process of undressing a little showier than it needed to be, and this occasion – top deck officers’ quarters at night, the brisk impersonality, the faint hint of humiliation – was making him slip into old habits again.

 _Well_ , he thought, straightening up. He purposefully held Ren’s gaze as he took off his uniform slacks, leaving him only in his underpants.

“Hux,” Ren said. It was the first time he’d used his name like that. “I didn’t say to stop.”

He stiffened for a brief moment, thumbs hovering over the waist of his underwear; then, resolutely, slid it off and let it fall on the floor.

“Better,” Ren agreed. “Take that box and come over here.”

Ren had positioned himself on his stomach, sprayed over his own discarded clothes, bent over the bed with his feet planted on the floor. “I want you to start with the cane, get used to it. Then I want you to take off my clothes. I’ll struggle.” His voice turned raspy, breath heavier.

“I’ll struggle and you will stop me. Be rough,” Ren said. He had his arms outstretched over his head, grasping at the covers. “Then use the whip. Hit me with it.”

Hux took the cane in hand. It was very light. “How long should I go on?” He started to raise his hand, high above his head.

“Until I tell you to st– _ah._ ”

Hux swung down the cane on Ren’s thighs, hard. Ren winced, inhaling sharply, and the sound of his strangled breath was more intriguing than Hux had been expecting.

“Good,” Ren said, as through gritted teeth. “Keep going.”

He landed two more blows in quick succession, just as hard, then another one right where he’d hit the first time. Ren groaned into the bedcovers, thrusting his hips into the mattress.

“Again.”

Hux hit him again, starting to feel a faint ache in his arm from the harshness of his blows. He struck Ren across his back, twice over a shoulder blade and then once diagonally, to intersect with the ones he already left. He found himself moving in closer, sliding between Ren’s spread legs and grinding down against his bruised ass, relishing the way Ren’s breath hitched with every press of his hips.

Ren chuckled. “Having fun, Major?” he taunted. Hux frowned, confused, until he felt Ren push back into him, the delicious friction against his groin, and he realized he’d started to grow hard – just from _hitting_ Ren, from hearing him gasps and watching him writhe and twitch under his blows.

“Are you having a revelation, over there?” Ren’s voice was grating, just as insufferable as the rest of him. Hux raised his hand, brought the cane down harshly on the middle of Ren’s back.

“Shut _up_.” He stepped back and swung again, two blows landing in the same spot across Ren’s ass. Ren shuddered, groaned, arching his back off the bed and fisting his hands desperately into the bedcovers.

Hux found himself admiring the curve of his body as he walked backwards across the room, eyes fixed on Ren the entire time. Ren’s grip had left his knuckles white, the muscles of his arms rippling under the skin as he tensed – and Hux caught himself wondering, for a moment, how Ren would look had he been tied up by his wrists to the bed, able to give in completely to the sensations bursting through his body. To let himself go.

He found his discarded uniform and retrieved what he’d been looking for, then quickly made his way back to the bed, grabbing the cane with his free hand and pushing Ren’s writhing body to the bed with a resolute press of his hips. He was almost fully hard now, and Ren must be in an even worse state if the way he was twitching and rutting against the mattress was any indication.

“Come on,” Ren said. “Keep going. Keep going, you _bastard_ , you–”

Hux folded himself over Ren’s body, leaning down to whisper into his hear.

“I’m going to strip you naked,” he told Ren, blowing hot air against the back of his neck, his sweat-soaked hair. “And you’re going to stay still and let me do it.”

Ren laughed, and the low sound of it made something twist deep down inside him. “So the kitten does have claws.” He bucked under Hux’s weight, started to shift as if he meant to roll over. “Major, you can’t make me a do _a damn thing_ if I don’t–”

Hux pressed the tip of his knife between Ren’s shoulder blades, just enough to make him feel the sting through the thin cloth of the undershirt he still wore. He’d once killed two men with this same knife; today, he trailed the tip of the blade across the length of Ren’s back, circling around the knobs of his spine, felt him shiver under his hands when he reached the thin sliver of exposed flesh in the small of his back.

“You were saying?”

Ren had gone completely still the instant he’d felt the knife on him, as boneless and mellow as a felinx lying in the sun. Hux head him chuckle softly, but this time there was something almost pleasant about it. “I knew I’d chosen right,” he said, turning his head to look up at him. His eyes were unfocused, and very dark. “It’s always the proper ones, isn’t it.”

With his off hand, he struck Ren again with the cane. It wasn’t as steady as his other blows had been – he angled it wrong, only managing to hit Ren’s left side with the tip of the cane, putting all his strength on that small spot, and Ren _screamed_ , a strangled, beautiful sound.

This was _Kylo Ren_ wailing for him, Hux thought, strangely dumbfounded. It was inebriating. Hux felt his head spin, his balls tighten. He wanted more.

“I told you to shut up,” Hux heard himself say. “I _hate it_ when you speak.” He brought the tip of the knife under the waistband of Ren’s trousers, nicking the skin there.

Then, in one smooth motion, sliced the leather clean down to the seam, exposing Ren’s bare, bruised ass to the air of the room. Ren moaned, unabashedly, grinding down into the bedding, and Hux’s gaze caught on the red stripes marring the skin – his own handiwork; _he_ had been the one to put them there. There was blood on Ren’s side where he’d hit him with the tip of the cane, an angry welt and small red drops pooling amidst the ripped skin. Hux shuddered, licking his lips unconsciously as he stared, wondering if it the marks would look different when he hit the naked flesh. Wondering if it would _hurt_ more.

Laying the knife carefully on the floor under the bed, Hux quickly grabbed the hem of Ren’s shirt, tugging it roughly up his torso and shoulders. He left it there, the cloth wrapped over Ren’s head, tangled around his shoulders and muscled arms, and took in the scene. Ren, the fabric of his trousers shoved down to his  knees, trapped in his own shirt so that he could not see, he could only _take_. Ren’s body, laid down for his perusal. His skin was a study in white and reds, the long expanse of his back dotted with beauty marks and spots of blood.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, without thinking. Ren stiffened and Hux swung the cane over his head once again, hitting diagonally across Ren’s back from buttock to shoulder. Ren gasped, and he wailed – Hux barely noticed, transfixed as he was. He watched intently as another mark formed under his very eyes – ruining the previously unmarred skin, turning it a deeper colour where it intersected the welts that were already there. The skin felt raised when he pressed his fingers to it, oozing and warm and strangely tender under the pad of his thumb.

“Go get the whip,” Ren said, his breathing heavy. Hux tried to imagine how his face must look now – flushed and sweating, mouth slack and panting. “ _Now._ ” There was true urgency in his voice, a pained plea.

Hux went, dropping the cane back into the box and taking out the coiled length of dark leather, grasping his fingers tentatively around the wooden handle. It felt odd in his hand, the weight slightly off-balance, and he suddenly felt more out of sorts than he’d been since Ren had made him strip. He looked at it – his slippery grip on the handle and the long strip of leather falling to the floor, Ren’s bruised body on display – and he felt an awkwardness that threatened to overwhelm him, a sense of inadequacy in his own skin. He fought it, rejected it.

 _It can’t be that hard_ , Hux thought. He swung.

He missed, hitting the bedcovers a good foot away from Ren’s injured side.

“ _Pathetic_ ,” Ren spat out, sounding as if he was passing judgement even like he was – ruined and bleeding, panting and rutting into the bedspread; every inch a depraved, needy mess. And yet Hux still felt his face grow heated, shame spreading through him at the thought of failure.

He tried again, a graceless stroke of his arm that managed to hit Ren almost horizontally on his lower back, from just under his right side to above the curve of his ass. Ren let out a strangled scream and bucked his hips, bare feet slipping against the floor.

“Fuck.” Ren groaned, and the sound went straight to Hux’s cock. _This wasn’t supposed to happen_ , he thought. He wasn’t supposed to get invested in this. He took a long, steadying breath, watched Ren roll his shoulders and flex his back, wincing with every movement. _Moaning_.

His head felt suddenly very light.

“Fuck,” Ren repeated. “Yes. _Again_.”

This time he hit harder, a sharp, tight swing. The lash twisted in his hand as if it had a life of his own, slicing into Ren’s skin, and the tail end snapped back with an unexpected vehemence that took Hux by surprise. He stepped back – not far enough, not quick enough – and the lash hit him in the face, splitting his lip open.

He let out a startled yelp, loud enough to be heard over Ren’s harsh breaths and obscene little noises, making him laugh.

“Can’t even do this right,” Ren said, mockingly. Taunting him. “That the best you’ve got, you pathetic little shit–”

Hux stared at the whip in his hand as if it were a snake, then breathed in and brought his arm down – careful and measured and so _satisfying_ when the crack of leather on skin filled the air. Ren laughed even as he screamed, squirming against the bedding. His neck was red and flushed, his knuckles gripping at the covers with something akin to raw despair.

He swung again, and missed. Again, and he left a long white cut across Ren’s shoulder blades that immediately filled with blood. One more, and he hit across Ren’s side where he was already bleeding, hard enough that he _howled_ and arched almost off the bed, shoulders shaking with sobs.

Ren must be _crying_ by now, Hux thought, and it was only when he made to raise his arm again that he realized he’d cut himself with that last swing, a long gash from shoulder to elbow that he’d hardly even noticed, distracted by the thought of tears running down Ren’s face. He struck again twice, leaving uneven red stripes and breaking the skin in parts; Ren took it so eagerly, writhing and keening and begging for more.

He hit once more, slashing across the angry welt he’d put himself on Ren’s lower back, and he bucked and cried out and shuddered bodily, coming with a long drawn-out breath.

Hux remained standing at the foot of the bed, his arms falling to his sides and sweat trickling into his eyes, feeling emptied – and tired, and still foolishly aroused as he looked at the mess he’d done of Ren’s body.

As if he heard his thoughts, Ren started to stir, moaning weakly as he rolled himself on his back and onto his elbows. He turned himself over, looking up at him from under damp black fringes, and Hux couldn’t help his gasp as he stared. Because Ren – Ren looked _lovely_ like this, his muscled body long and lean, his face and neck still flushed from exertion, his spent cock and upper thighs stained white with dampness. And there wasn’t a single mark to be seen, his pale skin smooth and covered in moles, such a beautiful, absurd contrast to the bloody mess of his back.

His eyes flickered back to Ren’s face, found him staring just as intently as Hux himself has done. He felt himself redden, self-conscious, suddenly hyperaware of how he must look – body sweaty and cock hard, wounded by his own hands in his eagerness, still gripping the handle of Ren’s whip. He let it fall to the floor, as if it burned.

“You bloodied yourself for me,” Ren said, voice low and deep, and Hux followed his gaze down to his own arm, where the long gash had started to burn, and on to his other shoulder. There was another wound there, blood was trickling out from a small, deep cut he couldn’t remember receiving at all.

“You did very well,” Ren went on, and Hux was ready to tell Ren just _where_ he could put his condescendence, when he continued. “Would you like to fuck me?”

 “Would I–” Hux paused, licking at his lips and tasting blood. He pulled his split lip into his mouth and sucked on it, balling his hands into fists. He shouldn’t. He’d already gone too far with Ren, he already –

“Yes,” he said, surprising even himself. Ren laughed.

“How predictable,” he mocked. He kicked the tatters of his trousers off and turned himself back onto his stomach, moving with far too much agility for someone who’d just been beaten bloody. Some of the stripes had started to turn purple around the edges of the wounds, the skin swollen and oozing.

“Come on, Major,” Ren called, spreading his legs. “Come get your prize.”

Hux’s gaze trailed further down, from the welts on Ren’s ass to his spread cheeks, catching at the sight of a familiar shine. His throat went dry.

“Did you–?” he asked, sliding in closer. He reached out and circled Ren’s hole with the pad of his thumb – there wasn’t much slickness left, but the finger went in easily. He swallowed.

“Yeah,” Ren said, pushing back on his finger, wordlessly asking for more. “Yes, come on, get on with it–”

He retreated his thumb and slid two fingers in, and Ren’s breath hitched. He was very lose, and clearly eager – Hux imagined how it must have looked, Ren opening himself up thinking of him, of what would happen. Ren fingering himself thinking of how Hux would _wreck_ him.

And then he’d redressed himself in his full attire, just so he could make Hux strip him again, see him on his knees before him.

“Come on,” Ren was saying. “Hurry, I can take it–”

Hux lined himself up and breached him, shutting his eyes closed at how good if felt, how warm and tight. Ren started to thrust back immediately, fucking himself on Hux’s cock like he lived for it, groaning at every slap of Hux’s hips on his bruised ass, pressing into it. He laid his hands on Ren’s hips and _squeezed_ , digging his fingers into the skin, pressing his nails into the open cuts on Ren’s back until he screamed.

He didn’t last long. It was all too much – Ren’s whimpers and the way he squeezed around Hux’s cock, feverish hot against his body – and soon enough he was coming, draped over Ren’s back and biting down into his shoulder, holding for dear life.

He’d hardly recovered when Ren pushed him off, and he barely had time to grab a fistful of covers before falling on his ass to the floor.

“You can get dressed,” Ren told him. “And call for a medical droid before you go.” He paused, then pointed with his chin at Hux’s body. “And you should get those cuts looked at.”

“Of course,” Hux said, just as swiftly and formally as if he’d been on the bridge. His lip had stopped bleeding, mostly, but the gash on his shoulder had not, and the cut on his arm was burning.

He recovered the pieces of his uniform with ease – unlike Ren’s clothes, that had ended up half on the floor and half on the bed, his pretentious cloak covered in blood and sweat and come – and he was fully dressed in under two minutes, comming the medical bay for a droid to be sent to Ren’s quarters. He wondered, idly, if this was something Ren did often, if he needed a partner or was usually satisfied inflicting wounds on himself, and how much of the quarterly medical budget was lost to this senseless game of his. Then he decided it was none of his business, and a casual look at the chrono had him suddenly feel very tired.

When his request was approved, he walked back into the bedroom to find Ren exactly how he’d left him, lying on his stomach with his feet barely touching the floor, bloody and with his ass in the air. He looked – he looked _obscene_ , Hux thought, and he turned his head away, swallowing softly.

“Major,” Ren called. “All done?”

Hux nodded, eyes fixed somewhere between the bed and the floor. He’d recovered his knife but the cane was still there, and so was the whip. Still stained with Ren’s blood.

“Good job,” Ren said, sounding like he was talking to a pet that just showed him a particularly clever trick. “Dismissed.”

“Lord Ren,” Hux said, and he turned on his back and left. His walk wasn’t as steady as it had been earlier in the cycle, and he spent the whole way thinking of the bacta patches he kept in his cabinet. Tomorrow, he told himself, tomorrow he would have his wounds looked at; but now he needed to sleep.

He saw Ren the next day, and the day after and the one after that. He spent his days wondering if Ren would call for him again _that way_ , and when it would happen. If he would want to go, even though he already knew he would. He was as surprised as anyone else when communication of his promotion arrived over a month ahead of schedule, along with information on his new posting.

He considered, briefly, whether he should talk to Ren about it, before deciding it would sound too much like thanks he did not need to give. He had five days of leave before having to report to General Navazza on the _Relentless_ , and spent two of them at a run-down hotel at Farron Spaceport, rolling around in the sheets with a pretty young thing he met on the first night, a sweet girl with pale hair and soft skin who called Hux _handsome_ and kissed every inch of his body on her way down to his cock. She told Hux that the scar on his arm looked very impressive, and did he remember how he got it?

Hux did not, he assured the girl. It must have been a pretty boring story, he said, or else something incredibly stupid. Nothing worth remembering, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Content warnings** : caning, whipping. They’re both into it, though Hux goes in not expecting to like it, and it may be consensual but it’s definitely not safe.
> 
> ++ This is for the tumblr anon who wanted a teaser and ended up with a whole story. Sorry it took so long, nonnie!
> 
> ++ FYI, what Kylo has Hux do is actually incredibly dangerous and the only reason Hux doesn't seriously hurt himself is because this is a fanfiction. Yes, Kylo is perfectly aware of what could have happened - he deliberately had Hux strip naked so he would hurt himself. Yes, Kylo is a dick. Now please imagine Hux's reaction when he realized how close he came to losing an eye.
> 
> ++ Also, please imagine Hux and Kylo meeting again on the Finalizer a few years later. Poor Hux. Wondering if this is the time all his youthful indiscretions come bite him in the ass.
> 
> ++ Find me on tumblr @[kyhlos](http://kyhlos.tumblr.com/). Let’s hang out!


End file.
